Piano Keys & Heart Strings
by BrutieBoots
Summary: The ancient Varian vampire family came to Hipsterville to marry off their daughters. But Izabela wants nothing to do with this tradition or her chosen mate. When she finds her first real friend in a human girl, she's thrown into a new life - especially with the arrival of the ex-half vampires. Can she get past the prejudices of her family? Or will her new friends be in danger?


_Author's Note:_ This is a rewrite of an old (and I mean oooooold) fanfiction, updated a bit with the finish of the Vampire Kisses series. Sorry the story is off to a slow start, it was a bit hard to figure out where I wanted to take it. Thanks again to EmodinosaurX3 for Emylee and Lukas!

This is set about 5 years after the VK books.

 **Rated M for swearing, violence and raunchy scenes**

* * *

 _ **Piano Keys & Heart Strings**_

 **A Vampire Kisses Fanfiction**

 _PROLOGUE_

I slumped my arms over the coffin edges, mahogany cooling my bare forearms and velvet cushioning my pyjama-clad ass. The sun had gone down an hour ago but the will to get out of bed was still not upon me. I'd managed to sit upright, that in itself was an achievement. Sleeping in new rooms – and coffins - was always a difficult adjustment.

I could hear the sounds of shuffling beneath me. People were no doubt organising our finest china into elegant table settings around whichever centrepiece had been next on the rotation. Family dinners were not just exhausting for me, but everyone employed under this roof. One wrong detail, one blood goblet out of place and they'd be facing an imminent disciplining like terrified school children called to the headmaster's overbearing office.

Just as I started to nod off again, a knock came from the door.

"Izabela?" A high pitch rang out. "Izabela!"

The door scraped open and I tilted my head, platinum blonde bedhead pouring over my shoulders.

"I'm awake, calm it down,"

The head maid glared at me and I sucked my lips in, eyebrows furrowing. I'd expected my mother, not the stone-faced Brit. Wrinkles gathered at her neck and her eyes darkened further, accentuating her crow's feet.

"Your mother is waiting for you in her parlour and ahe would like you there as soon as you're up," she instructed before looking me up and down with flaring nostrils. "However I'd suggest you bathe first."

Rolling my eyes at the back of her head, I climbed up and shook the pins and needles out my leg. I moseyed over to the door at the far corner of my room and into the ensuite. The bathroom was recently renovated; glossy new installations bright against the antique wood flooring and stonewall. I kicked off my tartan pyjama shorts followed by the oversized Rammstein shirt. The maid was probably right – Mother would've hated to see me wearing these clothes instead of an elegant nightgown.

With the soaking tub finally full, I climbed in. The near boiling water swallowed my pasty pale body. Steam flooded my face and boiled away the drowsiness.

I lingered as long as I could but eventually surrendered to my fate. I dried myself off, pulled my hair into a bun and slipped on something my mother couldn't complain about - a satin dressing gown she'd bought me. It was only a short walk to her parlour, down a winding hallway lined in candelabras with deep crimson rugs over the dark wooden floor. The intricately carved door sat halfway along the hall, with my parents' oversized bedroom sitting just further along at the end.

Heaving the door open by the glass knob, candlelight flooded over me from the dangling chandeliers. Glass ornaments hung from the chandeliers, reflecting flickering shapes onto the deep purple curtains smothering the full-length windows. Hand carved wardrobes lined the windowless walls with swirling shapes expertly painted on the doors in shimmering silver. Two dressing tables sat either side of the door with the mirrors removed – keeping them probably seemed like a cruel joke. Various beauty products were neatly arranged on one of the tables, whilst the other was covered in jewellery boxes filled with my mother's collection.

Standing in the centre of the room with her back to me was my mother, tall and regal as always. Her slender figure was pressed into a violet gown that hugged her body, the off-shoulder sleeves decorated in an amethyst trim. Her chocolate hair was swept into a low bun, showing off her dangling diamond earrings.

Just beyond my mother, stood on top of a cushioned stool was my younger sister. A cream corset hugged Violeta's bodice, accentuating her petite figure into a more generous hourglass with sheer sleeves covering up more of her porcelain skin. A similarly coloured full skirt puffed out from the corset with a white lace overlay fluttering over it. Golden curls bounced about her back, half held up by a porcelain rose clip with the rest left to fall free. Her dainty hands were pressed into soft white gloves and white stilettos sat a few metres away, waiting for her to step into them. Violeta held her posture strong as Mother checked the corset's lacing, ensuring the maid standing off to the side hadn't made any mistakes.

"Good evening Izabela," Mother said calmly with a quick glance in my direction then in the maid's. "Anastasia will help you dress."

I frowned. "That's not necessary,"

"Izabela," she extended the syllables disapprovingly. "It is Anastasia's role, what she is here for. Let her perform it."

"There aren't better things for her to do?"

"All roles are equally important in this household."

Anastasia watched our exchange with pursed lips. She didn't seem bothered. She knew I wasn't going to win; no one ever did against my mother. Even my hard ass father was wrapped around her little finger. Violeta turned to face me and chimed in.

"It's actually very fun!"

Her big emerald eyes sparkled, rimmed by long lashes and natural make-up. Her rosy lips spread into a big smile and she beamed like a giddy child. Violeta always wanted to be a princess, to wear beautiful dresses, go to balls and marry her dream man. Our vampire status and wealthy family definitely didn't discourage that dream. Now at 16, she was even more determined to have her fantasy life and my parents were more than happy to indulge. Then there I was, barely awake and groaning at the idea of having someone 'dress' me. All of the refined and elegant genes went to Violeta, without a doubt.

"Listen to your younger sister," my mother added with a strict tone, emphasising the word _younger_. Younger but not wiser is what she meant. She wasn't one for subtlety.

Surrendering, I skulked over to Anastasia. She stood to attention and gathered the dress my mother had chosen. It was a floor-length fit and flare with a sweetheart neckline and laced straps. At least it was black though. My mother was doing me that kindness. I climbed into the dress, thankful that I wasn't being subjected to a corset. Anastasia then dried my hair and pulled it into an updo, secured by bejewelled pins before doing my makeup.

I'll admit that having someone else do your makeup is pretty helpful as a vampire. Not having a reflection isn't the most fun. But I still had little choice in the matter; she gave me a natural look just as my mother wanted - the _classic_ look. Where I would've preferred thick liner and smoky eyes, she wanted neutral eye shadow and brown liner, no catflicks allowed. My plum lipsticks were traded in favour of soft pinks and rubies.

"There, don't you look beautiful?" Mother chimed in once Anastasia was done, her long fingers curling around my shoulders gently. "My daughter, a beautiful young woman fit for the finest vampire."

I didn't need to look to see the proud smile pulling at her lips. I could hear it in her voice. I knew what she was referencing. It'd been all my parents talked about for weeks, not to mention the whole reason we moved to Hipsterville. But if I was lucky, she wasn't going to bring it up now.

"Izabela," I was most certainly not lucky. "Your father and I-"

"Mother!" Thank whatever higher power there is for Violeta's insatiable desire for attention. I knew there was a reason I kept her around.

"Violeta Ann-Marie Varian, it is impolite to interrupt."

"I know Mother, but Mrs Catalan is here."

The head maid – Mrs Catalan – stood in the doorway, hands neatly folded behind her back and stern expression still set in her wrinkled face. My mother dropped her hands from my shoulders and stepped forward, thin eyebrows arching.

"Yes, Christiana?"

Mother was the only person who ever called Mrs Catalan by her first name. I'd never even heard her husband do it. Not that he ever said much; he was more of a silent driver unless a conversation particularly struck him as interesting.

"Lady Varian, dinner is ready and your husband is waiting," she replied politely, gesturing for us to follow her.

"Thank you," Mother turned to us with a nod. "Come now girls."

Violeta scurried after my mother, their heels tapping in a matching rhythm. I slipped on the painfully uncomfortable ones left out for me before stumbling after. My uneven steps clashed with the others' graceful beat. We passed by several doors, including my own bedroom, before reaching the entrance hall. Double staircases split from the landing, curving in opposite directions to the floor below and framing an oversized Victorian chandelier. Beneath the staircases was a set of double doors that opened into the dining room.

The dining room was, as you'd expect, filled with old-styled portraits, candelabras, deep maroon curtains and high arched ceilings. A long dark table with carved legs stretched down the centre of the room with four places set, my father sitting at the head. His broad figure was encased in a dark suit and his dirty blonde hair combed neatly with a side parting. Both him and my mother looked too young to be parents, such is the curse of vampires. His blue eyes pierced through the entire room to us, his mouth almost twitching into a smile.

"Good evening my girls," he greeted us as Violeta and I took our seats. My mother instead swept around the table and kissed him, taking his hand in hers. "And my beautiful Aurora."

"Ciprian," she nodded back before sitting down, their hands still interlocked. If I wouldn't face the biggest bitching of my adult life, I'd have started gagging. My parents were all about being refined and well behaved except when it came to handholding and googoo eyes apparently.

The two continued their loved up moment as dinner was served. We ate in silence apart from the polite 'please' and 'thank you' to the server. It was only when I started to feel my father's hard gaze on me that the conversation started.

"We are having the Drakovs over this weekend," he announced, although what followed sounded more like a command. "We'd like it if you would play for them, Izabela."

His eyes flickered from me to the piano in the corner of the room. I kept my eyes on my goblet; tilting it and watching the thick red liquid slosh back and forth. He cleared his throat impatiently before my mother took the reins.

"Don't you remember Lukas?" She cooed. "You two used to run around naked during the full moon when you were little."

"And without shame," Father grunted, ignoring the sharp look my mother shot him.

"You two got along so well," she continued. "And he is quite accomplished now; he has quite the collection of portraits from highly sought after artists."

I snorted involuntarily. "I hardly think a vampire model is an accomplishment, we can't even have photos taken."

"Show him respect, the Drakovs are a well-known and established family," my mother still tried. "As well as being old friends of ours, of _yours_."

"That's because you wouldn't let me play with anyone else, no one was good enough-"

"Izabela!" My father's voice boomed through the room, making Violeta squeak and my shoulders flinch involuntarily. "Enough of this; behave as you were raised to!"

His nostrils flared as we glared at one another. Our glares intensified. His brow furrowed and my frown grew. This was on the verge of exploding into one of our classic verbal boxing matches. I'd accuse him of being cold and regimented with a stick permanently wedged up his ass. He'd call my behaviour a disappointment, uncouth and uncultured. I'd undoubtedly get compared to my sister; he'd get compared to some form of dictator. My mother would break it up by sending me to my room and grounding me – like I'm not 21 and capable of sneaking out this old rickety mansion.

"Father," Violeta began delicately. "What about me? Could we find a vampire here for me? Someone to be promised to?"

She looked at me quickly, shooting me a sympathetic smile. She was trying to get me out of this. She knew Father had a soft spot for her, that she was everything he wanted in a daughter and pandered to his desire to marriage us off to successful and wealthy men – as is Varian tradition. Where I say fuck tradition, she can't wait to be arranged. She was going to use this to bring a smile to Father's face, and mine by bringing me out of the limelight. And as naïve as Violeta could be, she sure knew how to manipulate a man out of a mood – a skill she picked up from Mother.

"That's what we came here for, sweetheart," he softened. "To find partners for both of you. What do you think, Aurora?"

My mother pondered for a moment. "I heard the Sterlings had been seen here a few times, however young Alexander found a mate in a _human_ ,"

The disgust was palpable in how she said the last word. I did say my parents were traditional.

"And I do not want my daughters associated with any of those half-vampires," my father added.

Violeta piped up. "Even if they're no long half?"

"Dirty blood is dirty blood, we don't want any half-breed grandchildren,"

I rolled my eyes. The prejudice was ingrained into them growing up just as they tried to ingrain it in us. It was successful with Violeta at least, as she nodded along as if he'd said something incredibly sensible.

"I have it," Mother exclaimed gleefully. "The Maxwell boy is here, Jagger – he owns a business I've heard. He might be too old for our little girl, but the Maxwells have a younger son, Valentine."

"Valentine…" Violeta swooned.

"Didn't the Maxwells have a human daughter?" Father snarled. "They should have kept her a secret if you ask me, truly disgusting – or just put her out of her misery."

I rolled my eyes for the thousandth time and downed my drink. Counting the droplets trickling down my glass, their voices merged together and I tuned out. I'd listened to enough of this. Being a half-vampire was shameful - I understood that. It was the fault of the parents I was always told, they took little care of their blood and their pregnancies. But a human born to vampires – that's nigh impossible. That's a freak incident, an accident that no one could have foreseen or prevented. But it's also one easily corrected – and not by _putting her out of her misery_ – by binding her to a vampire. They couldn't blame the entire Maxwell clan for something like that.

I groaned to myself and shook the thoughts from my head. I was thinking like my parents, judging and analysing others like I was better. I needed to get out of this atmosphere, out of this house. It was toxic and I needed a break. I'd have to sneak out tomorrow, see how the humans spend the night.


End file.
